Out of the Amber
by Dixiegirl256
Summary: 2036 - Reunions aren't always easy. A companion piece to Shine


Beta by the incomparable OConnellAboo

* * *

"No, honey, you stay in here," Peter insisted, nodding at Astrid over her head. "She'll be a little disoriented at first, she wouldn't want you to see her that way."

Astrid put her arm around Etta's shoulder and tugged her away from the doorway. "C'mon, let's see what kind of supplies we can scavenge while we're here."

Etta turned away from the doorway regretfully, but Astrid was right – as long as they were here, they should make the most of their time and there were supplies they needed. She and Astrid busied themselves combing through the jumbled shelves, but she listened for every sound coming from the next room.

She heard the low murmur of Peter's voice, and Walter's, as they moved to set up the equipment. Peter had repaired the old tech they'd used to blast them out of the amber. He laughingly told Etta that since he built it in the first place, he could certainly repair it if he had the right materials.

"Ready, Walter? On three…"

Etta crept closer to the doorway. She heard the hum of the sequencer, and the whoosh of the blaster, but instead of the usual crash of a body flying across the room or hitting the ground, she heard her father grunt, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. She peeked around the corner and saw Peter cradling a woman in his arms… a woman that looked a lot like her. He was whispering in her ear while Walter checked her vitals and administered a stimulant to 'jump-start' her body.

Suddenly, the woman's eyes snapped open and she scanned the room. When her eyes fell on Peter, she jerked out of his arms and whirled to face him.

"What the HELL are you doing? Where is she? Peter, what have you done?"

Etta felt Astrid's arm around her shoulders again, tugging her away from the doorway. She was surprisingly strong for such a tiny woman. "They need a few minutes, Etta," she told the younger woman after noticing the confusion on her face. "Let them get things sorted out."

She could hear her father's voice, low and placating, much like the voice he used when Walter threw a fit about a lack of equipment… or a shortage of Red Vines.

"Liv, honey…"

"Peter, you've got to tell me. Quit trying to protect me."

"Livia…"

"I told you this was a bad idea. You're as crazy as your father if you think this will work. How could you – " Her voice grew louder as she regained her strength.

Peter reached for her and she recoiled from his touch.

Walter strode out of the room, stuffing their equipment into his backpack. "Come on, Peter. No dawdling. You two can fight about this on the way." He eyed Astrid and Etta, then gestured impatiently. "You, too, ladies. We're wasting time here."

Walter pushed them along, and Etta barely had time to glance over her shoulder at the couple trailing behind, still arguing, albeit in lower tones. It was nearing curfew when they left the building; they used a combination of abandoned subways and sewers to cross town, surfacing only in the most deserted parts of the city. On the infrequent occasions that Etta could look back, she'd see the other woman staring at her, her expression unreadable. Finally, they reached the ramshackle house they'd made their home base.

Finally, Etta thought. Finally…..

But Astrid grabbed Etta's hand as soon as they entered the house. "Let's take these supplies down to Walter's lab."

Once they'd descended the stairs to their workspace, Etta hissed, "Why are you all so determined to keep me from meeting her? She IS my mother, isn't she?"

Astrid pulled her into a hug. "She is…. But she needs a little time."

Holding Etta at arm's length, Astrid said softly, "You were only a little girl the last time she saw you. She was terrified for you every day after the Observers came."

"But…"

"She's got to adjust to the idea that you're a grown woman now. Just give her a little time."

"But Dad…"

"Your dad had to do some adjusting of his own, he still is. It's just always been easier for him to open his heart." Astrid hugged the younger woman again and said a silent prayer that this family reunion would have a happy ending.

ooo

When Astrid and Etta walked into the kitchen, they found Walter stirring something on the old stove. Peter and Olivia were seated at the small table, a glass of whisky in front of each of them.

Peter smiled reassuringly at Etta as she entered the room, and lifted his glass. "We'll have to scrounge up another bottle or two, now that your mother's back."

Hearing it for the first time, Etta sucked in a breath, her eyes wide. Olivia looked up at her, then stood up abruptly and fled from the room, ignoring Peter's outstretched hand.

Peter closed his eyes, then knocked back his whisky and stood up. He pulled Etta into a quick embrace and kissed her forehead. "It'll be ok, I promise," he whispered to her as he followed Olivia.

"Come, come," Walter admonished them as he pulled chipped bowls from the cabinet. "Can't solve anything on an empty stomach."

Etta wasn't hungry, but she'd learned to eat when she could. Walter and Astrid tried to engage her in conversation, but she was too intent on the sounds coming from the rest of the house – her mother's agitated voice (her mother!), her father's soothing murmurs in response, their makeshift shower turning on and rattling the pipes.

Astrid laid her hand over Etta's. "Go to bed, honey. Things will look better to all of us in the morning."

Etta curled up on the couch, her favorite spot. Walter fussed in the kitchen, ostensibly cleaning up after their evening meal, while Astrid washed the dishes and wiped down the counters and table, then they turned off the light and retired to their respective rooms. There was a dim light shining in from the streets, barely enough to navigate through the disorganized clutter that made up the Bishop house these days.

She was almost asleep when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Two sets of footsteps, actually; she recognized her father's, and by the lighter sound of feet on the creaking planks, her mother. As they drew nearer, she closed her eyes and evened out her breathing; pretending to be asleep had served her well in the past.

The footsteps stopped.

Peter and Olivia stood in the doorway, gazing at their daughter curled up on the broken-down couch.

"Peter…. she's, she's so big," she whispered hesitantly.

"She's a grown woman, Liv," he replied. "And she's a lot like you." He slid his arm around her shoulders, and for the first time since she'd come out of the amber, Olivia didn't shake off his embrace.

"I'm scared, Peter. What if she hates us? What if she thinks we abandoned her?"

"Liv, it's ok. She's not four years old anymore. She understands."

"How do you know?" she said bitterly. Pulling away from Peter, she walked into the kitchen and picked up her glass of whisky, still sitting on the table where she'd left it. "Has she told you that?"

"No, but – "

"Peter, it's not ok. It's been TWENTY YEARS." Her voice trembled. "We LEFT her."

"Olivia, listen to me." Peter grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. "She never forgot us. She never gave up on us."

"Does she think we gave up on her?"

"No." Peter sighed. "Look, she has a friend…" He chuckled. "Actually, I think he's more than a friend, based on the way her eyes light up when she talks about him."

"Peter!"

"Liv, she's twenty-four years old. I think it's ok if she has a boyfriend."

"You say that now…"

He flashed her a quick smile. "Simon's parents sent him away to school. They were Resistance fighters, too. " His voice grew somber again. "They were killed the night of the purge." He paused. "She understands that he was sent away to protect him."

Olivia sighed heavily. "Maybe I should give her some time to get used to the idea…"

"Maybe you need some time, too, Liv." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It takes a while to recover from the amber."

Olivia bit her lower lip and Peter pulled her to him. He always fell in love with her a little more when she did that.

"Come to bed. I wanna sleep with my wife."

"Peter!"

"Don't sound so scandalized. I can be quiet – can you?" His eyes twinkled.

Etta opened her eyes just a little. She could see them standing in the kitchen doorway, outlined in the faint light from the street lamp. Peter was leaning against the door frame. His legs were spread wide to bring him closer to Olivia's height and she was standing between them. He cupped her face in his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb, then tilted her face up to his and kissed her gently.

Olivia put her arms around him and deepened the kiss, while Peter smoothed her hair and stroked her back.

Etta felt that she should close her eyes, that she was eavesdropping on a very private moment, yet she couldn't turn away. These were real people, the people she'd dreamed about for years. These were her parents, who loved her, and who obviously loved each other.

Never letting go of Olivia, Peter straightened up to his full height. Even with the dim light, Etta could see the love in her father's face, the smile that finally reached his eyes. She couldn't see her mother's face, but she recognized the tenderness in her touch as she reached up to stroke Peter's face.

"Still haven't learned how to shave, Bishop?" Olivia whispered.

"Nope." He chuckled, then replied in a low voice as he leaned into her touch. "As I recall, you kinda liked it when I –"

"Peter, shhhh!"

They both glanced at Etta, whose eyes were tightly closed. In the near-darkness, they couldn't see the faint blush on her cheeks.

"C'mon, wife." Peter kissed the palm of her hand, then led her upstairs to his bedroom.

Etta heard their footsteps on the stairs, then let go a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She knew she should be embarrassed for witnessing such an intimate moment between her parents, but it made them more real to her, living people instead of the fuzzy images and broken memories she'd lived on for so long. She drifted off to sleep to the sounds of their hushed voices drifting down the stairway.

ooo

Etta woke to the light streaming in the windows from the back of the house. The front windows were covered to disguise their occupancy, but the back yard was concealed from the street by trees and the windows were bare. The house was silent.

She stood up and stretched, then headed to the kitchen. They kept a stash of Coffee Chews there; Walter and Peter had developed a distillation process that liquefied them and made what her father had assured her was a poor substitute for the real thing, but to Etta, it was still amazing.

She stopped in the doorway. Olivia was sitting at the small table, staring at a box of Coffee Chews. She looked up as Etta stepped into the kitchen.

Olivia looked panic-stricken, even though she couldn't look away from the young woman standing in front of her. "I.. er… "

Peter appeared in the doorway and took in the scene in front of him – the two women staring at each other, both afraid to move.

"What's stopping you now, Olivia?" he said quietly.

Olivia stood awkwardly, stepping away from the table and holding out her arms tentatively. "Henrietta?" she whispered.

Etta's eyes filled with tears. "Mama?"

They embraced hesitantly. Olivia pulled away and scrutinized Etta's face. When her eyes fell on Etta's necklace, she drew a sharp breath and gingerly touched the bullet. When she looked up again, Etta was biting her lip and her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Oh, Etta…" Olivia's voice broke as she pulled her daughter close.

Peter stood silently, watching the two women with tears streaming down their faces. When Olivia looked up at him, he crossed the small room in a single step, pulling them both to him and wrapping his arms around them.

When Astrid entered the kitchen a few minutes later, she smiled at the scene before her: Peter, with each of them tucked close against him; Olivia wiping tears from Peter's stubbled cheeks; Etta gazing at them both with a look of wonder; and three of the happiest expressions she'd ever seen on these faces.

"My family," Peter whispered as he pressed a kiss to each blond head nestled against his shoulders. "My family."


End file.
